


Monsters Often Bleed

by BrazenShield



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - mafiatale, Blood and Gore, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Work In Progress, fluff in later chapters, mafiatale, updated often
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-11-16 00:18:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18083726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrazenShield/pseuds/BrazenShield
Summary: New York City in the late 1920’s is an exciting- and dangerous- place for a young woman like Frisk. She’d’ve rather stayed behind in her hometown but she’d promised to watch over her dad for as long as she could and she intended to keep that promise. With the police force slowly being corrupted by Mafia money, and an old friend suffering from an unspeakable trauma and a hard life, she’s found herself set up for quite the ride- one she is not looking forward too. Besides, it’s not her fault- not really; who could think with those eyes boring into her like that all the time? Why was he everywhere she went? Why does it look and feel like he wants her gone? If only the dreams would stop keeping her up at night... If only the ache in her heart would cease for one freaking moment, she might have time to make a plan.





	1. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She has bad dreams often but this one is a bit different. She gets lost.

# Monsters Often Bleed

### Dreams

In a defiant move, she wiped at the blood flowing from her lower lip with a sleeve. She winced in pain but never took her eyes off the boy who glared down at her. He hit her in the face again, harder this time. The force of it knocked her off her feet and she landed heavy in the dirt. 

She never sees the second punch coming, no matter how often she dreams about this fight. He was so much stronger than she was. 

“Now stay there, you little brat,” the boy growled down at her. 

A small sound came from beside her and her companion scooted closer. “Frisk,” the familiar voice whimpered from her side. Gentle touches on her arm, helping her. “Frisk, are you okay?”

Laughter rang out from in front of them as the boy and his friends mocked them. Hot embarrassment flowed into her face. Frisk hefted herself up on her elbows but didn’t feel any pain: all she could feel was the rage burning through her, welling up in her eyes and threatening to spill over. Never back down. 

“Ha!” the ringleader huffed, slapping one of his friends in the chest. “Lookit her! She’s crying.” He made rubbing motions over his eyes and his friends again erupted into laughter. 

Frisk stood up quickly and dug her sleeves into her eyes in a desperate attempt to stem the flow of tears. Furious, she launched forward and grabbed her unaware opponent by the hair, throwing her weight sideways and using the leverage to bring them both slamming to the ground. The shouts of surprise from his friends made no difference to her as she used the move to her advantage. She hit the boy in the side of the head, the eyes, the nose- anywhere she could reach and as fast as she could manage but he always recovered too quickly and was blocking most of her blows before she could get a good rhythm going. 

He kicked her off in a great shove and she went flying, landing hard on her stomach and losing the air in her chest. Dreams aren’t supposed to hurt, right? Suddenly there was a weight on her back and she scrambled to get up but the boy quickly kicked her in the side, hard. Her breath hitched in her throat as she started to gasp. The pain was always intense. She curled into a ball to protect the front of her body but it did little to stop the hurt. 

This dream was the worst- why did she have to relive the most embarrassing fight she’d ever been in? 

“Stop it!” shouted the familiar voice beside her and she saw a flurry of shoes and heard a scuffle and shouts of anger as the fight continued above her. 

_No!_ She could only think it- there wasn’t enough air in her lungs to gasp the word into the world. She didn’t need help; she was going to do it herself! 

Then, suddenly, all the sounds stopped. The world seemingly pausing for long moment and Frisk raised her head to look around. She was no longer in the middle of the dusty street outside her parent’s shop. Instead, she was sitting on the hard wooden floor of an unfamiliar furnished room. Her eyes settled into the blackness of an open doorway and she felt the pull of something in the dark.

This was different. This was... wrong.

Something was there. The inner room was too dark to make out but she could feel something was inside. A shiver tickled her skin from shoulders to knees as she held her breath, frightened. A sudden movement beside her almost made her jump out of her skin, and she swung her head to stare up at a huge figure that was so blurry it was almost as if she was looking at them through a swelling of tears. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Frustrated and scared she tried again, tried even to scream but nothing happened.

They were also facing toward the doorway and a low sound, almost a growl, emanated from them. The figure shifted, their feet spreading out and their hands raising up around their head. Frisk slowly turned back towards the darkness.

A form emerged from the black- the business end of a small gun type that Frisk didn’t recognize followed by another humanlike figure. As it continued forward, Frisk looked down at their feet and was startled by what she saw: wet footprints followed after them. The thick fluid sucking at the floor with a sickening squelch after each step. Frisk knew what the fluid was, somehow; knew the fluid would be a dark red stain. Her heart beat against the inside of her chest so hard it was starting to hurt in her ears.

A blinding blue light filled the room and Frisk closed her eyes instantly. Covering both with her hands, she focused instead upon the frightening sound that fill the brilliant light around her. A yell- no, a scream, so heartbreakingly desperate it tore at her soul. She felt a void open in her chest, an agonizing emptiness so heavy it seemed to crush her upon the floor. She struggled against it blindly, futilely reaching out to her surroundings to grab on to something- anything- to keep her from sinking into the floorboards.

“Miss?” A far away voice.

Suddenly she was floating in darkness, a dull ache in her chest all that was left of the painful void. She blinked a few times, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to her surroundings. 

A man she barely recognized stood above her. She straightened her back quickly, adjusting her hat and wiping at her eyes. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry sir! I must’ve fallen asleep...” she trailed off as she took a look around. The street car had been full when she’d jumped on a few blocks from her father’s new job, and the daylight had been strong. The car was now empty except for her and the car’s conductor- the man who stood in front of her, looking down at her impatiently- and the daylight was dimming. She’d been intending to ride the contraption to Central Park to take a look around but... “Where are we?” she asked, a deeply unsettling feeling overcoming her. 

“The end of the line,” the man replied sternly, taking a step backwards. “If you want to go back downtown I’ll need another ten cents, otherwise this is where you get off.” 

Frisk blinked at him for a second and reached down obediently to get the money out of her- a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was all that met her. Her coin purse was gone. She stood up so suddenly the man fell backwards to get out of her way. 

Frisk dug into her pockets desperately. Finding nothing, she scrambled around the seats looking for it. 

“Oh no,” she moaned, bending down to look under the seats. She shoved her fingers in between them, twirling herself around in all directions. “No, no, _no_ ,” she whispered. It had to be there- it had to be! 

“Miss?” the conductor interjected quietly. “Is everything okay?” 

“I... uh.” Frisk meet his eyes and just breathed for a second. This was quickly becoming the worst day she’d ever had. Too embarrassed to say anything, Frisk just smiled weakly at him. “Um. Yes. Thank you. I’ll just, uh. Walk,” she said, looking out around the car and wondering exactly how far from her new home she was. 

As Frisk approached the step that would lead her down to the street level, she mentally berated herself: how stupid of her to fall asleep! She’d let herself be such an easy target to thieves of course one had liberated her purse from her. She stepped off the street car and onto the sidewalk of a part of town she’d never even seen before. Now she had no money to get herself home and she was lost... and she was alone. 

She supposed she could go to the nearest police station and ask them to help her find her way back to her father- no. Frisk clamped her teeth shut in an unconscious motion. There was absolutely no chance of her running to her father for help, not after the fight they’d had that morning. She was a grown woman who could make her own mistakes and handle any consequences that came with them. 

Frisk watched the trolley lumber away towards the high rise buildings that seemed like miles and miles away from her now- at least she knew which direction to go. She took a moment to gather her wits about her and started down the sidewalk towards downtown, hoping it didn’t get dark too soon.


	2. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She overreacts. She loses her hat pin.

# Monsters Often Bleed

### Fire

New York City was different than anything Frisk had seen before. Back home trees outnumbered the people 10 to one; in this city she was hard pressed to find even one tree before she saw a hundred humans. The many voices and sounds surrounded her like a wet blanket. Even in the dying light of the evening there were so many people crowding the sidewalk that she’d ended up with a foot in the gutter more times than she wanted to count. Some of the buildings were taller than any tree she’d ever seen, and they loomed over her head, making her feel small.

At first she’d been delighted at the many colorful shops with large windows to look in, that she had begun to feel a little better about the long walk she was in for, but now she wasn’t even looking at them. She’d lost count on how many blocks she had walked since getting off the street car. Her feet told her it had to be about four miles and she didn’t have a watch so she wasn’t really sure how long it had been.

Her fear that she wouldn’t reach her father’s house before dark came true quickly, and though she wasn’t technically alone in her trek downtown, the people she passed on the street either ignored her or paid her too much attention. She avoided eye contact, preferring to watch the ground and her shoes.

“What’s a pretty gal like you doing in this part of town?” a policeman had asked as he stopped traffic so she could cross a busy road. She gave him a friendly smile but didn’t answer; she really had nothing to say and making small talk with him would be at the best a waste of time. She just wanted to get to familiar territory, sit down somewhere she felt safe and unwatched.

Maybe she should rethink asking for help: one word to any of the numerous policemen she’d seen along her way and they’d call her father to come get her. Or she could maybe borrow some change and promise to pay them back... she sighed and stopped just before reaching another street corner. 

There were hardly any people out now. Little personal stores set up in carts along the street were being packed up and secured to horse drawn wagons as she walked past. Doors to shops closed and locked, the employees headed home for the night. Traffic on the street got heavy and then died down almost completely. Every once in a while a bus or a trolley or even a taxi cap would pass by, but the city was slowing down.

It was truly dark now, but Frisk had hardly noticed because the city had electric streetlights, something her little hometown did not. She stared up at the closest one and took a moment to marvel at it. _In a few years the whole country would have these_. The world was changing so quickly.

She heard the group that rounded the corner in front of her before she saw them, and she was able to get out of their way when they almost ran into her. The four men laughed and jostled each other, smirking at her as she steadied her feet.

“Excuse me,” she said out of habit more than anything, and continued walking towards the tallest building in the distance. It didn’t take her very long to notice that the small group of men had begun to follow her. 

Or at least she thought they were following her. She knew it was very possible they had been going in the same direction as her in the first place, but the hair on the back of her neck was standing up. The nighttime air was cool but she could feel the sweat collecting on the small of her back.

Frisk trudged along, wary of the party that followed her. She had to be getting close to a part of the city she recognized- in the night she could see the tall building she was aiming for. It had many windows and some of them were lit up like small ever-burning fireworks in the sky and it gave her a bit of hope. 

She could hear the men talking in lowered voices, so she walked a bit faster. Soon she would have to make a decision; she could look around to see if a shop was still open, maybe duck into an alleyway or doorway until they passed by, or she could keep walking and hope they got to where they were going or lost interest in following her.

Her chance arrived just as she managed to get about half a block of space between them and her; she took an upcoming corner quickly, sprinting down the sidewalk on the other side as quietly as possible and ducking into an alleyway next to a small church yard. It was dark, there were crates of glass bottles and boxes of old newspapers, a few broken up wooden structures that looked like church pews, and the whole thing was fenced in by a tall unlocked gate that hung from its hinges like a wounded wing.

Frisk leaned against the brick wall on the left side, hidden behind some of the boxes, and hunkered down on her heels. She reached up and took the hat pin out of her hair and clenched it in her fist. She breathed slowly, her heart beating so fast she was sure her whole body was vibrating with it. She waited... and waited. 

Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Frisk pulled herself over the boxes. Maybe she had over reacted. _I’ll wait a little while longer before going back on the street,_ Frisk told herself. Only a few more blocks and she would be home. Smoothing her hands over her simple blue dress, she began readjusting her hat and started back towards the street. 

A strangely familiar sound coming from the other side of the gate stopped her in her tracks; rapid clicking noises on the cobblestones, heavy breathing and light sniffing. Frisk took a small step backwards.

The dog’s nose appeared first, snuffling the ground lightly. The rest of the animal came into view as it walked through the gate: it’s head was bigger than a humans and it had a lean, muscular body that was probably as long as she was tall. It’s shoulders would reach her waist. If it wasn’t friendly she was in trouble. Wild dogs roamed the streets of all cities but for some reason she never thought to be worried about an animal attacking her underneath electric streetlights and within spitting distance of automobiles- until it noticed her. The dog’s eyes met hers and it immediately started growling. 

Trying not to panic, she searched frantically for anything she could use to put between herself and the animal. Her hat pin could do some damage but she’d seen what a dog could do to exposed flesh. A broken pew was within arms reach but she knew if she moved too quickly the dog would attack her before she could grab it. Frisk retreated a step and the animal bared yellow teeth the size of her fingers, it’s growling intensified.

What slammed into her was a wall of fury and spit and teeth. Frisk screamed as she grasped for handfuls of fur, barely holding the dog’s snapping jaws at bay as they tumbled onto the ground together. The animal was snarling in her face, it’s breath reeking of rotted meat. Her feet tangled in her dress as she tried to strike the animal with her legs and it pressed down on her. She finally connected with a foot and kicked as hard as she could, freeing her hand and she slammed her hat pin into the animal’s neck. 

The dog reared backwards, shrieking in pain as Frisk scurried to her feet. Her arms flailed wildly for purchase and a stack of crates tipped over. The glasses inside tumbling onto the wounded dog, shattering on the ground around it. She tried to collect her thoughts and she came up with a plan. 

The broken glass was between her and the gate; even if she didn’t trip over it she’d never outrun a dog. The pews beside her gave her the leg up she’d need to climb the fence that made up that side of the alleyway. As the animal came back for another attack she scrambled up a pew and over the wobbly fence, landing on the other side with a thud.

Gasping for air, Frisk got to her feet quickly as the enraged animal assaulted the boards of the lower half of the fence. She could hear as the dog started breaking off pieces and forcing its way through a rapidly growing hole, pausing it’s attack only to bark and snarl viciously at her before renewing it’s efforts.

She searched for anything she could use as a blunt weapon. Nothing. The yard was dark and bare except for a scattering of flower beds. Open area all around. If the dog got through the fence she’d never be able to run far enough away. The dog’s head was through the hole but it’s shoulders were stuck, and it clawed at the ground viciously. Holding the hat pin firmly in her hand, she planted her feet and readied herself.

Just when she thought the dog would force it’s way through, a bright light flew past her, hitting the animal and fence with a sudden burst of flame. Frisk gasped and took a step back, shielding her eyes with an arm. The dog cried out, disappearing in an audible trail of whines and scampering feet.

“What a horrible creature,” came a sorrowful voice. 

Frisk spun around to view a rather large female monster standing in the center of the yard. The pity on her face and the sadness that shone brightly in her eyes were visible only by the light of a cluster of flames she held suspended in her upturned palm. Her white fur glowed prettily in the fire light, as did the horns atop her head. 

“Oh, do not be afraid, my child,” the monster spoke again, approaching Frisk slowly. As she drew closer she overturned her hand and the flames snuffed out quickly. “I am Toriel,” she continued, reaching out for Frisk, “caretaker of this place. I heard your screams and I came out to make sure you were okay.”

Frisk could only blink up at her, fear and relief mixing within her mind. She was taking in long hard breaths but she was unable to say anything. The ground shifted unpleasantly underneath her, and Frisk lost her balance momentarily, dropping the hat pin from her fist. Toriel took her arm, steadied her and clicked her tongue in disapproval. 

“You look an absolute fright, child!” she exclaimed, gathering Frisk in her arms tightly. She was at least two feet taller than Frisk, with wide shoulders and wider hips. “Please, come inside and rest for a moment; I’ll make us something to drink.” 

She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, Frisk realized quickly as she found herself being steered towards the church she’d seen on her way to hide in the alley. There was a firm hand in the small of her back: the hand so large it almost reached up to her shoulders. Frisk allowed Toriel to help her up a small stone staircase and into the building through the massive ornate doors.

Frisk took in what she could with her eyes as she was hurried into a tall entry way by Toriel’s warm hand in her own. The darkness within the building was lit only by the light of a few large candles every few feet. She could see it was at least two stories tall, with colorful oil paintings on the walls and towering stained glass windows that reached from the floor to the ceiling. She raised her eyes to look as far up as she could but the darkness swallowed the candle light near the top of the windows. Toriel lead them quickly down a hallway to the left-hand side of the room, past another set of double doors, and Frisk wondered quickly what was behind them before moving on. Moments later Toriel released her hand and went ahead, opening a small door at the end of the hallway.

The door led back outside and down to the ground where Frisk found herself staring at two picturesque stone cottages; a larger one on the left and a very small one beside it. Toriel glanced behind her, smiling at Frisk. 

“Come rest inside?” she offered, motioning towards the larger house. It had a plain front door that set between two charming little windows on either side. There was a large flowerbed under each window, full to the brim with plants. 

It was so tidy looking and the sight of it filled her with a familiar, soft warmth. Frisk smiled at Toriel. “Thank you,” she said, sudden tears filling her eyes. 

Toriel acted very quickly, catching her as her knees gave out. She held Frisk tightly against her as she cried, and she was soft and warm and gentle and she smelled like cinnamon and old books. Frisk cried harder, unable to stop as she gasped for air in between sobs. She had been so scared and alone and the strength that had held her backbone was now spent. Toriel’s hug tightened, and she whispered words that Frisk couldn’t understand. 

After a while the tears subsided and she sniffed, wiping them away. Toriel was rubbing a hand along the top of her head: the motion and the size of it reminding her what it felt like to be a kid again. The soft tones of her voice calmed Frisk: she felt safe for the first time in a long time.

“You are safe here, my child.” Toriel’s smile was evident in her voice; her choice of words were a bit jarring.

Frisk looked up at her and couldn’t help but laugh. “You don’t even know my name,” she chuckled, feeling much better now that she’d released some of her pent up emotions. 

Toriel looked surprised for a second before she, too, laughed. Her smile stayed in her eyes as they headed into the house. “I am so sorry,” she said, opening the front door and holding it for Frisk to come through before securing it behind them. “How rude of me! I just heard you in the darkness and had a feeling that you needed my help- pleasantries completely slipped my mind. ” 

Frisk followed her through the house. They walked by a staircase leading upwards, and then through a small sitting room with a comfortable looking overstuffed chair next to a lit fireplace, a small table with a set of reading glasses and what appeared to be a hastily dropped book nearby. There were plenty of book cases filled with books of all shapes and sizes and Frisk marveled in the delightful smell of the place. One of the windows she’d noticed outside connected here and she could feel a slight breeze coming from it. A large couch sat in front of it with a thick blanket thrown over the back. 

Through a narrow archway, the next room was a large kitchen with a welcoming table set in the middle with four matching chairs. Toriel motioned to the table and then busied herself with filling a teapot from the faucet, and Frisk took a seat. 

The table felt weird: it was too big for her, Frisk realized. The chair was too big as well. She felt like a child again, but not in a good way this time; her feet didn’t even reach the ground. She brushed it off though: she should be used to feeling slightly small. She was short for a human too. 

“Are you hungry?” came Toriel’s cheerful question as Frisk listened to the teapot fill. “I have some biscuits and honey left over from breakfast...” Toriel trialed off when Frisk shook her head; her stomach was too upset to risk putting food in it. 

Toriel’s kitchen reminded Frisk of home. The black stove was wood burning. It was spotless except for some wear and tear around the grill plates and the matching oven nearby was just as clean. There was a refrigerator, which Frisk had only recently become acquainted with as one had come along with the purchase of her father’s new house. There was a phone on the same wall as the entrance. The light above the table was electric, but there was also a tiny bundle of used candles in the center of the tablecloth. 

“What _is_ your name, my dear?” Toriel asked, and Frisk blinked when she sat down across from her. Frisk glanced at the stove and saw the teapot over a flame. 

“My name is Frisk,” she replied, turning her attention back to Toriel. “Frisk Ebott. Thank you for... for saving me.” She looked down at the table, laying her hands flat. Shame flooded her and she sighed. _I shouldn’t need to be saved,_ she’d tried so hard her whole life- Toriel grabbed one of her hands and squeezed firmly. Frisk looked up at her. 

“From what I could see,” Toriel released her, folding her hands on the table in front of her and looking at Frisk with a sort of proud gleam in her eyes, “you were well on your way to saving yourself by the time I arrived.” She smiled warmly. The humorous lilt in her voice was kind. 

Frisk’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She gasped, her eyes wide from shock as she reached up to her head. “My hat- my pin!” Then, remembering suddenly, she held her face in her hands. “Oh, oh- your fence!” Frisk would have immediately stood if her feet had been on the ground instead of hanging above it, as it was she barely stopped herself from tipping the chair over and taking herself with it. 

“It’s okay, it’s _okay_ ,” Toriel said soothingly, opening her hands in a soft gesture and following Frisk with her knowing eyes. “I have a friend who can look at the fence and we can search for your hat in the morning.” 

_Morning..._ Frisk closed her eyes wearily and slumped back into the chair. “What time is it? I feel like I’d been walking for hours...” 

“It’s around ten...” Toriel’s voice was both questioning and concerned. “And what do you mean ‘Hours’? Walking from where?” 

“Well, I...” Frisk looked at her for a moment. She hadn’t known Toriel for very long but the woman’s calm demeanor and open expression made her feel like an old friend. Frisk trusted her, trusted she wouldn’t judge her too harshly for being young and stupid. Even then, Frisk looked away as she began her story. “I fell asleep on the trolley and ... and when I woke up it was turning around and someone had stolen my coin purse so I couldn’t afford the trip back so I just...” she swallowed and took a second to gather herself. “I got off and decided to walk home. We were at West 175 Street... I thin-”

“175 street?!” Fear and worry filled Toriel’s face. Frisk looked at her, a bit startled. “Frisk, that’s practically the Bronx!” 

Frisk smiled weakly and shrugged. “I’m not really sure what that means...” 

“It means-” Toriel stopped when the tea kettle started whistling. She smiled sadly and got to her feet. Frisk watched the expression on Toriel’s face: a knowing gaze and one full of pity. Rummaging around the drawers near the stove, Toriel pulled out two bags of tea and filled two cups with the boiling water. “It means you’ve had quite a day and you deserve a good night’s rest.“ She placed the cups and the accompanying saucers on the table, one in front of Frisk and one in front of where she’d been sitting. “You can stay here tonight. No no-“ she said quickly when Frisk started to protest- “I insist.” She turned back to the counter and grabbed what looked like a bowl of sugar cubes and a spoon, placing it next to Frisk on the table. 

Toriel then glanced up to the ceiling and furrowed her brows. “I don’t think the-” she swallowed hard, as if the word was stuck in her throat- “guest... room will be fit for company, so I’m afraid you’ll actually be more comfortable on the couch in the sitting room. I’ll go make it up.” She smiled sweetly and disappeared into the darkness of the front room. 

Frisk stared after her, at a loss for words. She looked back to the hot cup of water in front of her and eyed the tea bag next to it. This had definitely been one of the most interesting days she’d ever had. _I wonder if I’ll be sore in the morning,_ the thought vaguely floated through her mind, and she noted that her arms hurt a bit already. She sank the tea bag in the water and stirred in two cubes of sugar, testing it gingerly. Chamomile, of course. 

By the time Frisk was done with the tea she was yawning profusely and Toriel had called her to come and lay down from the sitting room. The couch looked more like a tiny bed than a loveseat. “I’ll leave the fire going for some light and warmth,” Toriel said, her hands moving back and forth slowly, massaging her own palms as if she was trying to keep them busy. “And I’ve closed the window,” she continued as Frisk laid down and pulled the blanket up to her chin. 

“Thank you,” Frisk said sleepily, “again.” 

“Of course, my child.” Toriel’s eyes were sad and she rubbed her hands down her long white dress. “Goodnight.” 

Frisk watched as Toriel walked back into the kitchen. The light switched off but soon there was another small glow in the darkness. Frisk closed her eyes, feeling truly relaxed for the first time in a long time, surrounded by the smell of the dying fire and old books. She heard the clinking of a spoon against a teacup and she drifted off. 

Sometime later, an unfamiliar sound woke her. She listened for a moment but she wouldn’t remember anything about it in the morning. 

“Yes, hello.” It sounded like Toriel was talking to someone but no reply came. Maybe the phone? “Could you please transfer me to the New York City Police. 18th Precinct.” A pause. “Thank you.” A few seconds later, “Hello, this is Toriel-“ a hasty stop. “My dear, is that you? Answering the phones?” Teasing. “I thought you were... Well, yes I guess it is a bit late. It’s so good to hear your voice. Yes... no everything is fine, but I have a child here who had quite the day and I was wondering if you might be able to help me find out where her home is?” Another pause. “Yes, her name is Frisk Ebott- oh, you know her? That’s great news!” A worried sound. “Missing? All day, the poor dear. No, she’s not hurt. She just went to bed.” A longer pause this time. “Tomorrow morning then? Of course. I miss you, too. Good night, Papyrus.” 


	3. Papyrus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She meets an old friend and makes a new one.

# Monsters Often Bleed

### Papyrus

“Don’t you dare talk to him like that.”

Frisk stood opposite the group of older boys in the middle of the dirt road. She glared at them defiantly. At her words the leader of the group had given her a look of annoyance but it slowly morphed into a sneer as his eyes shifted from her to the older, taller boys around him. Frisk was more than aware there were more of them and that they were bigger than she was: she stood her ground. 

“Or what?” the leader asked with a chuckle, putting his hands into his pockets and tilting back on his heels. 

“Or I’ll beat you so badly,” Frisk started, her words closing in a growl, “your own mama won’t know who you are once I’m done.” Her hands curled into fists at her sides; anger and hatred for the boys balled inside her stomach like a rock. She would defend her friend if it was the last thing she did. Frisk would show them just how strong she was.

There was a flash of fear in the boy’s eyes but it faded as his friends laughed; he flashed them a smile. “I’d love to see you try, little girl,” he said.

A familiar weight grabbed her fisted hand, warm fingers threading through her own. He was standing behind her, as she had put herself between him and the other boys.

“Frisk,” her best friend pleaded softly, “you don’t have to do this.”

Frisk none too gently pulled her hand out of his and took a deliberate step towards the bully. “I’m warning you!” she called out, louder than she had intended. Her blood was boiling, rushing through her and filling her with determination. The boy approached her and she raised her fists to eye level. Frisk had seen her father take this stance before, many times as he got between arguing and drunk men in town.

She didn’t know where he was right now but she was glad he wasn’t here; she knew she could do this by herself and her Papa would try to stop her. There were never any adults around this time of the day. Drunks started early behind the closed door of the local bar. Mama’s were at home cooking lunch for their kids and daddy’s were working away the daylight hours, her own Papa included.

Frisk put all of her strength into the first punch she threw, but all that strength managed to do was tip her off balance as the older boy pushed her fist away from his face. She stumbled sideways to peels of laughter, barely keeping on her feet. 

Frisk reset her stance quickly and took aim again, this time catching the boy by surprise and connecting solidly to his jaw. He made an angry sound and she cried out as the force of the impact shot pain through her. Frisk stared at her injured hand- it hadn’t occurred to her that punching someone would hurt. She saw the boy cock an arm and didn’t have time to think about it as his punch landed, pain blinding her as she stumbled backwards. 

A bit dazed, there was a stinging sensation around her lower lip and she touched it gingerly; her fingers came back red and wet. She glared up at her opponent, wiping at the blood with her long sleeve. Frisk never saw the second punch coming and she hit the dirt beneath it in a breathless instant.

Winded, she tried to pick herself up but her legs were glued to the floor... Floor? 

Frisk lifted her head slowly and looked around, once again finding herself in an unfamiliar and darkened room. Dim light drifted in through a small window behind her. She already knew she wasn’t alone and she glanced up at the large figure that stood close by. They were both equal distance away from the open doorway on the opposite wall.

She focused on the figure, trying desperately to make out any details but they were no less blurry than they had been before: she couldn’t even tell what color their clothing was. Why couldn’t she see them?

A noise shifted her attention to the room beyond and she looked up just in time to see the gun emerge from the black. Blood soaked shoes followed after as another figure entered the room from the doorway. They stopped just short of the moonlight, masking their face in shadow.

“There you are.” The voice that came from the darkness was eerie and childlike. “I was afraid you would miss this part.”

The gun melted into the dark, replaced quickly by a human hand that dripped blood unto the floor. They took a step forward, making no moves to avoid the crimson drops in front of them; their shoe stuck to the thickening liquid. 

Frisk watched, horrified, as the hand opened slowly, glowing with a light that reflected off wet fingers. In the palm of that outstretched hand was a large, heart-shaped jewel that pulsated weakly with light. She suddenly recognized what it was just as the room exploded in brightness; a mournful scream filled the air. 

Frisk shot awake. Her hand was braced tightly against her chest, her heartbeat thrumming against it mercilessly. She looked around frantically: she wasn’t home. She closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down; fear was a forerunner in her mind. Taking deep, even breaths, she opened her eyes and waited for them to adjust to her surroundings.

Old books. Reading glasses. Fireplace... _Toriel._

Frisk fell back into the couch weakly. She rubbed at her face and felt the damp that had been running down her cheeks. Why was she crying? She didn’t even feel sad... Frisk sat and thought for a few seconds; she didn’t really feel anything. There was an uncomfortable hollowness in her chest. 

She sat up, sliding her legs off the edge of the couch and setting her feet on the floor. Her shoes were nearby but she’d gone to bed fully dressed. There was a rip in her stockings; her favorite pair. She didn’t have many of the soft ones left and they were expensive. She wasn’t looking forward to explaining to her father why she needed money. Frisk buried her head in her hands; what she needed was to find a job and a place to live. She sighed; she needed clean clothes and to bathe first. 

Frisk pulled on her shoes and stood gingerly, checking her arms and legs. Nothing was overly sore, which was a surprise. Her stomach rumbled jarringly. Thinking back, didn’t Toriel say something about food last night? Uncomfortable wandering around the house uninvited, Frisk tiptoed into the kitchen. There were biscuits in the middle of the table. They’d been offered last night so... was it okay to take them now? Her stomach rumbled again and her mouth watered; Frisk devoured one immediately.

Frisk paused and made a soft noise; they were absolutely delicious! She had never tasted anything as savory. Not proud of herself, Frisk shoved another into her mouth and two more into her dress pockets for later. She considered briefly writing a thank you note, but couldn’t see anything resembling a note book or pencil; Frisk did however notice a door off to the side, a back exit that she’d missed the night before. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling: it felt wrong to just leave. Toriel had literally saved her life and then she’d been so nice and so welcoming, but Frisk had to get home before her father woke up. He would really be worried. 

Silently, Frisk thanked her new friend, vowing to come back at a later date to thank her in person. She double checked she wasn’t leaving anything behind and then grabbed a third biscuit on her way out, making sure to lock the kitchen door behind her. It was still dark enough that she chose to abandon the idea of looking for her hat pin and hat; the hat had been old fashioned anyway. 

It didn’t take long for Frisk to find her way to Broadway. The Avenue ran almost the entire length of the island though, right down the middle, and by the time she got her bearings, Frisk noticed she had made it farther last night than she’d thought. She was mere blocks away from West 14th, a cross street near her new home. Her father had managed to buy an older house in the West Village neighborhood, aptly named for it’s position in the southern, left hand side of the island. 

As she marched down the tidy sidewalks and stared at the cobblestone streets that were her new normal, Frisk longed for the dirt and trees of her hometown. It was hard to tell what time it was and she berated herself again for loosing her coin purse; her pocket watch had been inside as well. To pass the time in her walk Frisk counted addresses. All of the houses looked the same to her, brown and dull red and overwhelmingly tall. 

Frisk stopped in front of the steps leading up to her father’s house and pulled the key out of the small buttoned pocket of her dress. At least the key hadn’t been in her coin purse too, she though wearily. To her surprise her father was nowhere to be found. In the kitchen the coffee was cold and stale and Frisk wondered if her father had even come home last night. _If he is still at work I should go visit him, maybe bring him breakfast._ She patted the biscuits in her pocket absently, wrapped them up in a tea towel and put them by the door so she wouldn’t forget them. 

It didn’t take her long to shower and change; running water wasn’t new to her but it was sure convenient to actually have in her place of residence. She hadn’t unpacked yet so there were still a few easy outfits laid out from the day before and she chose a lovely purple patterned dress with a flower decorated white cloche hat instead of the wide brimmed one she’d worn the day before. She also grabbed some matching white stockings. She pulled out a pair of dangling earrings from her luggage; in the country wearing them had been a bother, but in the city they were a common site and it was nice to put on something that made her feel pretty. She didn’t have any necklaces but determined she’d buy one at her earliest convenience. 

Speaking of which, she needed a bag now that her coin purse was probably gone forever. A bag that would match her silver shoes and she would make sure to wrap the strap around her shoulders; it would look funny but it was better than losing it. She turned to her full length mirror after completing her outfit and stared at her reflection. Her hair was short enough that her bell shaped hat covered it almost completely but the earrings could still be seen, and they caused a pleasant tingling feeling in her stomach. Frisk smiled at herself and felt beautiful.

Her father’s work was a half an hours walk uptown and east and she made her way there quickly. The sun was up now and the streets were once again full of people working and idling about. She passed many stalls on the sidewalk once she hit the city center, and was thankful she didn’t have any money; Frisk was sure she’d have spent it on the silly little things that caught her eye.

Arriving at the building she’d been looking for, Frisk steeled herself before walking inside. It was busy; it had been busy the day before as well. People rushed in and out of the front doors, many were sat at the numerous long benches that lined the walls and the center of the entryway, just waiting. The employees also rushed about, set in their work, though she did get a couple of smiles and a few glances of recognition. She approached the front desk to check in and the man standing there met her gaze eventually, pausing his furious scratching on the paperwork in front of him. 

“What can I do you for, Miss?” He was a bit older than her with brown hair and his hat was beside him on the desk; he didn’t smile. Frisk hadn’t met him before but she’d only been here once, and not for very long. 

“I’m here to see my father, Charles Ebott,” Frisk explained, motioning to where she knew her father’s office was located, up the stairs in the back of the building, past the benches and behind the teletypewriter offices made up of wood and glass half-walls that littered the precinct’s first floor. 

At the mention of her father’s name, the man blinked down at her with a startled look on his face. It wasn’t an unfamiliar look; Frisk had been seeing it for as long as she could remember, every time she mentioned her father was the town’s Sheriff. Though, her father wasn’t a Sheriff here in the city. 

“Th-The new captain?” The officer at the desk asked, visibly taken aback. 

_That’s right; that was his new title, ‘Captain’._ Frisk nodded and started to answer but a familiar voice called her name from the doorway. She turned to see her father walking towards her, a smile on his face. He crossed the entryway quickly, coming to a halt right next to her and pulled off his hat, placing it in the crook of his arm. 

“Papa,” Frisk smiled, happy to see him. She gave him a quick hug that he returned with his free arm, and stared up into his kind eyes. 

“Frisky,” he said, pulling away gently. “I was so worried when you stormed out of here yesterday. I’m happy to see that new fellow found you... what was his name?” The question wasn’t directed at Frisk, but she tilted her head in an unconscious gesture. _New fellow? Found me?_

The officer at the desk glanced down at his paperwork and then back up. “Dreemurr, Captain.”

“That’s right!” Her father chuckled loudly. “Send him up to my office first chance you get. Come on Frisk.” He pushed her shoulder gently and she fell into stride next to him as he led her upstairs to his office. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, Frisk finally felt safe. Her father’s strong arms swung freely by his side as he walked, his stride was almost twice her own. He was one of the biggest guys she’d ever seen, though she was sure being her father had something to do with her perception of that. Her mother had been small like Frisk was; the memories weld up fast and Frisk pushed them back just as quickly. _Not the time..._

He opened the door to his office and held it open for her: the name plate on the outside was still obviously missing- a reminder of just how short a time her father had been in charge here. He closed the door behind them and walked around to grab a cup of coffee from a pot he had stashed in the corner of the room. There was a worn out couch on the far wall, with a yellowing pillow and a thick blanket. So, she’d been correct about him not coming home. 

His desk was large and didn’t have any personal items; he was never one to bring ‘home’ with him to work or the other way around either- but the desk was hardly empty. Towers of paperwork and spiral bound books covered almost every inch of the surface. Frisk put the tea towel in the middle of the desk, right on top of a rather daunting stack of papers. 

“I noticed you didn’t come home last night so I brought you breakfast,” she said quietly as he drained his cup. The look in her father’s eyes was more than enough thanks for Frisk, but she smiled when he said it out loud too.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said warmly, searching futilely for a place to put his coffee cup before shrugging and putting it on the floor at his feet. He grabbed the towel and looked appreciatively down at the biscuits before taking a bite out of one. His eyes lit up and he practically shoved the rest in his mouth. “Good lord, Frisk- did you make these?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he quickly consumed the rest of the contents of the towel.

Laughing, Frisk considered lying, but thought better of it. “No,” she watched him search for more after the towel was empty. “I got them from a friend. I can ask for the recipe, though,” she offered. _Anything for you, Papa._ Something caught her eye on the papers on his desk. It looked different than the reports back home, but a police report was a police report. 

“What’s this?” she asked, grabbing it to get a better look. The handwriting was horrible but she could make out some of the details. Arrests at the docks; some bootlegers with empty shell casings but no weapons- she gasped as her father took the paper right out of her hands. She glared at him, indignant. 

“Frisk,” his voice was stern now. He set the paper deliberately on his desk and stared at her. “We’ve talked about this.” They stared at each other long enough for Frisk to get uncomfortable. 

“Talked about what?” she demanded, deciding to press the issue. She didn’t appreciate the tone of his voice, didn’t like the look in his eyes. “That I’m ‘smarter than half the men that work for you’?” He looked away. “Or how about that I’m ‘better at police work than you were when you were twice my age’?”

“Yes, Frisk,” he sounded tired all of a sudden. Her anger cooled for a second. “You are smart, smart enough to know that’s not what it’s about.” He motioned around him, “This kind of work is... it’s too dangerous fo-”

“-For what? A woman!” 

She jumped when her father slammed his hand on his desk, sending a pile of books toppling over. She looked at the floor; she hadn’t meant to yell. Her father’s eyes met hers the moment she raised them again; the anger in them confused her. “Stop interrupting me,” he warned. Frisk narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest. 

He opened his mouth again to say something and a hard knock at his door cut him off. He shook his head. “We will finish this discussion tonight, at dinner,” he told her and then turned to the door. “Enter.”

The officer that entered the room was tall enough that his head almost hit the top of the frame; he had hunched over to get through the doorway, she noticed. His uniform looked brand new and was the standard dark blue; trousers, a matching double breasted overcoat, and black leather gauntlet length gloves. He also had what seemed to be the standard issue peaked cap, something he immediately took off as soon as he saw her, but it was also then when she really noticed him.

Sure he was tall but it was upon seeing what was under his hat that Frisk had to gasp. He didn’t have a normal head; in fact, the flesh was completely gone from his face, leaving nothing but grinning ivory bones instead of skin and muscle and hair. His eye sockets were empty- no. _Not empty,_ Frisk corrected almost immediately: they had small specks of light that moved as if they were normal eyeballs, but their light didn’t extend to fill the cavity. They had to be magic: all monsters were alive because of some sort of magic. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen a monster but it was nonetheless a surprise to see one in a policemen’s uniform.

“Dreemurr!” Her father called from behind her, feigning contentment despite their fight and walking forward, putting his big hand into the skeleton’s gloved one.

“Captain Ebott,” Dreemurr replied, shaking her father’s hand firmly. His jaw moved when he spoke, but the voice wasn’t coming from lips. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes,” her father replied, and coming up behind Frisk, put a hand on her shoulder. “I wanted to thank you in person for finding my little girl yesterday.” Frisk winced, hoping her father didn’t notice. Had her father actually sent someone looking for her? His ‘little girl’? Embarrassment colored her cheeks. 

Dreemurr shifted his stance and Frisk saw the lights in his eyes flicker down to hers quickly. They stayed matched to hers for a moment too long. Silently, she pleaded for him not to correct her father. His eyes flickered back up to meet her father’s. “Of course, Captain,” he said.

“It was a personal favor and it won’t be forgotten.” Her father let her go and walked over to the door. “As another favor, do you mind walking her home as well?”

“Papa!” Frisk was horrified; she was pretty sure she couldn’t be any more embarrassed than she was at that very moment. Her father gave her a hard look and she huffed out the breath she’d been saving for a retort. She grabbed the empty tea towel off the desk and shoved it into her bag roughly, walking towards the door as her father opened it for her. She glared at him as she left the room. 

“It would be my honor, Captain,” Dreemurr responded and followed behind her. Her father closed the door with a crisp snap and Frisk turn immediately on her captor. 

“I don’t need your help getting home,” Frisk snapped and then added, “sir,” after she remembered he was still a police officer. 

His jaw shifted a bit and the ridge of his brow moved ever so slightly. His eyes shone a bit brighter. “I am aware you do not need any assistance walking to your place of residence but your father is my commanding officer and I wish to stay in his good graces, so assist you I shall.” He put his hat back on his head and motioned towards the stairs leading down. “After you,” he said.

Frisk huffed, rushing down the stairs and out the front doors of the precinct as quickly as she could, annoyed when she looked back and saw that he was more than capable of keeping up with her. He was taller than a standard doorway, and most of that was leg so Frisk wasn’t sure what she thought was going to happen. She decided it wasn’t worth it so she slowed her pace to normal after a block or so, and saw Dreemurr match it beside her. His stride was confident, his arm swings wide and encompassing. 

He was the center of attention and he knew it. As both the tallest person around and in a crisp new police uniform, he call but commanded attention. Frisk was actually relieved after a few minutes, happy that she wasn’t getting any sort of attention while beside him. She trudged along, considering taking a long way home, but decided she didn’t want to spent even a second longer with her chaperone than she needed too. 

She’d been in more fights with her father in the last few months than she had been in her whole life it seemed, and she was angry and hurt and confused. She didn’t know this new officer, but from what she’d witnessed, he seemed like a stand-up guy; smart and observant. Frisk felt guilty for having snapped at him. They stopped at a corner, waiting for the traffic light to turn so they could safely cross. 

“Thank you,” Frisk said softly. He made no motion of having heard, but she continued on anyway. “Thank you for not telling my father that you hadn’t actually brought me to the station this morning.” She looked up at Dreemurr and he inclined his head towards her slightly. “I mean, I know that it could’ve made you look bad and that’s the last thing I want but you could’ve also gotten me in a lot of trouble with him and I...” She turned away, settling her eyes on the opposite corner. “I appreciate you not doing that.”

“You don’t recognize me,” Dreemurr said suddenly and Frisk turned her head to look at him. He wasn’t looking at her and she thought for a second that she’d misheard him.

Immediately suspicious, she furrowed her brows. _Did she know him?_ “Should I?” she asked slowly after a long minute. 

Dreemurr lowered his head a bit and sighed. “No, I guess not. I barely recognized you, now that I have a moment to consider the thought.”

 _Recognize me?_ Frisk let the words tumble inside of her head for a moment. The traffic light parallel to them turned green, but she didn’t walk forward with the cars. Instead she turned her body to fully look up at her chaperone. 

Her confusion had to have been evident in her face because he also turned to look at her, his eyes on hers. “When I heard the name of the new captain I had hoped he was the same Charles Ebbot I knew when I was a boy, and as soon as I heard he had a daughter named Frisk, I knew that he was.” His eyes held hers for what seemed like forever.

It clicked. Frisk felt her mouth drop open. Was there any possible way this could be the same tiny skeleton boy she’d known as a child? The one she’d defended against bullies and racists? The one she’d bled for, fight after fight as he held her warm hand in his own and told her she didn’t have to? Her best friend. 

“But your family name...” she said in disbelief. 

“It’s changed,” he responded, his jaw shifting again. The movement, along with the slight upraise of his eyebrow ridge, was what she was slowly starting to recognize as a smile. “I was still very young and was adopted by another monster family after our mom passed away.” The smile faded and the light in his eyes did too. 

He was in pain. Pain she recognized. “Papyrus,” she said softly, reaching out and then thinking better of it. “I’m so sorry.”

“As am I,” he said sadly, motioning towards her gently. Pain in her chest tightened around her heart. It had been six months since her own mother had died, but it felt like the agony would never go away.

“And it is okay,” he said, tilting his head. “It was a long time ago; it’s mostly a memory for me now.”

 _So you say_ , she thought. They stood there in silence and Frisk stared up at the tall man she’d once known so well.

“I’m...” she started and then stopped. What could she say? It had been over ten years since she’d seen him last. They were both different, they might not even get along; she obviously didn’t know anything about him anymore. She stared at him, willing him to see her sadness and hope. 

“I know the feeling,” he said. “I’d like to still be your friend, if it helps?” The hopeful way his voice sounded made her smile and eased a bit of the pain wrapped around her chest. 

“I’d also like that,” she responded, grinning at him.

“Wonderful,” Papyrus chirped, a smile back on his face. He looked around, nodded slightly and motioned east. “I take it you are not opposed to making more friends?” Raising an eye brow, she shook her head and he continued. “What do you say we stop down the street at a cafe and grab something to eat while we catch up? It’s another friend of mine’s birthday today, and I was planning on stopping by her place of employment on my lunch break. You don’t seem to have any problem getting around the city by yourself,” he said, eyeing her sideways, “but a girl like you could always do with some girl friends to hang out with.”

He turned and walked down the sidewalk instead of crossing the street: Frisk followed after him quickly. She hoped the humor carried in her voice as she called after him, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means I feel like you haven’t changed one bit since we were kids and if you don’t keep busy you’ll keep getting into trouble,” he said matter-of-factly.

 _Great,_ Frisk rolled her eyes. Just another man in her life who wanted to protect her from herself. “I don’t need your help staying out of trouble,” she said, grabbing his arm. “I don’t need help keeping busy either, Paps.”

He stopped walking and looked back at her: the shape of his face changed and she could see the smirk that settled in his features. “I am aware,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean I am not going to keep trying.” 

Papyrus pulled away from her gently and kept walking. Frisk watched as the crowds split for him, their faces full of wonder and fear and awe. She felt a twinge of satisfaction knowing he seemed more than capable of taking care of himself now. His stride was full of confidence and she saw the sideway movement of his head as he walked and kept track of the people around him. Frisk sighed and started after him: she just wished the people who cared for her could trust her to take care of herself too.


End file.
